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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865619">Bad Things Happen Bingo: Card One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honey_Dewey/pseuds/Honey_Dewey'>Honey_Dewey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Choking, Dissociation, Duchess Jaskier, Female Jaskier, Gen, Geralt Dies, Gunshots, Home Invasion, Hospitals, Jaskier has a bad time, Kaer Morhen Witchers are a family, Modern AU, Siren Jaskier, implied rape, sometimes, tags to be updated as the story progresses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:34:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865619</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honey_Dewey/pseuds/Honey_Dewey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts from my first Bad Things Happen Bingo card.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Dissociation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt one: Dissociation</p><p>Summary: Jaskier has a tough night after a bar fight, and decides to sleep it off. When Geralt finds him in the morning, he’s dissociated and basically unresponsive. What happened in the night? What will Geralt do now?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier gasped, hissing as he dabbed water on his swollen lip. His most recent bar fight had been a doozy, three on one in the back alley. Nothing important had been hurt, only his face. One future black eye, one currently swollen lip, and one bruised ego. Well, and maybe his ribs. They felt bruised too. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck,” he grumbled, wriggling out of his shirt and spotting the telltale yellowing across his chest. Because of course he couldn’t have an easy night. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He took a warm bath, swearing vehemently the entire time. He decided against a new shirt, curling up in a borrowed pair of sleep pants and staring at the ceiling, hoping sleep would take him easily. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then there was a knock on his door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At sunrise, Geralt was waiting. Actually, he had been waiting for an hour now, and yet, no sign of Jaskier. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking bard,” he grumbled, heading up the inn stairs to where Jaskier’s room was. “Jaskier!” He knocked loudly, and when he received no answer, he shoved the door open. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It opened easily, not having been locked, which was surprisingly unlike Jaskier. The bard himself was still asleep. No, his breath was too shallow. He was passed out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt sighed. Usually, when this happened, Jaskier was severely hungover. But there was no sour smell of alcohol in the air, no stink of vomit that usually came with Jaskier’s drinking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier?” Geralt shook his companion’s shoulder lightly. The closer he got, the more he smelled blood. Not open to the air and bleeding, but under the skin and bruising. And there was one other thing in the air, buried underneath cheap perfume and feminine arousal. Fear. Fear and tears and vomit. It stung, making Geralt reel back. What had happened here? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier!” Geralt was a bit more insistent in his desire to wake Jaskier now. But the bard did little more than roll over and grumble softly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt growled, scooping Jaskier up and carrying him out into the cold of the winter morning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm?” Jaskier finally, finally woke up, eyes blinking open and shut slowly. “G’rlt?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Geralt said. “Yes it’s me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay.” Jaskier sounded sleepy, but there was something there, something Geralt just didn’t know yet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hummed, looking around. His original plan had been to leave Jaskier here, at the inn while he went to Kaer Morhen, but in this state, Jaskier needed to be watched over. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on bard,” Geralt said, carrying Jaskier back inside. “We’re leaving.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt expected a struggle as Jaskier woke up more, but it never came. He was pliant and silent the entire time Geralt got him dressed and carried him downstairs to Roach. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take good care of him,” he murmured to Roach as he put Jaskier on her back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah!” Jaskier cried, face screwing in pain as soon as he hit the saddle. Geralt immediately turned worried. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier, does something hurt?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier whined, tears building in his eyes. “My,” he slurred. “My ass.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt nodded, pulling him off the saddle and putting the softest fur blanket he had down. “Here you go, hopefully this will cushion you until we reach home.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Home?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.” Geralt swung up into the saddle behind Jaskier. He worried briefly about how Roach would handle the extra weight, but she had carried much heavier before. It would be fine. “I’m taking you home with me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their ride to Kaer Morhen was hell. Jaskier got dehydrated very quickly, constantly wobbled and tipped until he was half out of the saddle, and didn’t speak any more than one or two words in a row for the entire three day trip. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here we are,” Geralt murmured. He had no idea why, but loud noises seemed to frighten Jaskier. He’d lowered his speaking voice in hopes that it would make Jaskier a bit more comfortable, but nothing seemed to be helping. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir was out in the yard, directing Eskel in repairing a hole in the stable’s ceiling when Geralt walked up, still on Roach’s back. “Geralt? You’re late. Lambert arrived yesterday. Where were you, and who’s this?” He added, seeing Jaskier wrapped in one of Geralt’s fur cloaks, shivering. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier,” Geralt introduced, helping Jaskier down. “He’s my bard.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir knelt down a tiny bit to look Jaskier in the eyes. “Who hurt him?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Eskel and Geralt both spoke at the same time, looking at Jaskier. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s been hurt,” Vesemir carefully put an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, leading him towards the confort of the keep. “Not just physically.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you saying,” Geralt followed quickly, Eskel on his heels. “What happened to him!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir sat Jaskier in front of the fire. “You can’t smell it?” He asked, looking up at Geralt with something akin to regret in his eyes. “He was raped.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gods,” Geralt put a hand over his mouth. “No! He couldn’t, no.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Vesemir shook his head, carefully and slowly taking Jaskier out of his doublet and boots. “Jaskier, young man, can you hear me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier nodded, slow and uncoordinated. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you feel that?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm,” Jaskier looked down at where Vesemir was pinching him. “Yeah?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir nodded, rolling Jaskier’s pants legs up. “His ankles are bruised, and look,” he pushed Jaskier’s sleeves up. “So are his wrists.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt knelt beside Jaskier, still unwilling to believe what was before his eyes. “But-“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shh,” Vesemir shook his head. “Eskel, go prepare a room for Jaskier. Lots of soft furs, and make sure it’s warm.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eskel headed off, quietly and without hesitation. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vesemir kept looking Jaskier over, carefully cataloging bruises and points of pain. “He had a man, and a women I think.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I smelled a woman in the room,” Geralt breathed. “I thought. I thought he got a whore to keep him company in the night.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Vesemir picked Jaskier up, tsking when his chin flopped to his chest. “Considering what I assume happened, this is an unfortunately normal response. He’s dissociating. You said you found him like this three days ago?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt nodded, picking up a wayward fur blanket and tossing it across Jaskier’s shivering body. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He should be like this for a bit,” Vesemir hummed, heading towards the room Eskel was preparing. “I know you don’t remember, but you went through the same thing after the trials. All of you boys did.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I remember Lambert,” Geralt trailed off, getting lost in thought. His brother, post-trials, had been a shivering mess for weeks. He cried a lot, couldn’t form coherent sentences, and couldn’t focus on anything. If that was happening to Jaskier... </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can care for him,” Geralt offered, worry making his voice quiver. “If he needs that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He does,” Vesemir murmured, nodding to Eskel, who was lighting the fireplace in the room he’d prepared. “But you need sleep too.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt nodded. “I understand.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier slept that night, and for most of the days following that. He woke for an hour at a time, choked down some food, used the bathroom, and then fell asleep again. It was the longest Geralt had ever seen Jaskier go without talking, and it was terrifying. His bard was never quiet, but now, his solemn face and silence was haunting. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally, after two weeks, Jaskier woke up shivering. “Geralt?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt shot up. “Jaskier?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier hummed, putting his arms protectively around himself. “Where are we?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Kaer Morhen,” Geralt said softly, crawling into the bed. He kept his space, just in case, but Jaskier scooted towards him and worked his way into Geralt’s arms. “I brought you here because some very bad things happened at the inn.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know,” Jaskier whispered. “I know.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt took a deep breath. “Can you tell me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe,” Jaskier said, hesitation making him sound so small. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dropping a kiss on Jaskier’s crown, Geralt hummed. “Take all the time you need.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Home Invasion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt Two: Home Invasion</p><p>Summary: Jaskier was home alone and thought everything was a-okay. Spoiler alert, things were not a-okay.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Y’know I told myself I wouldn’t use this series to torture Jaskier...</p><p>Apparently I’m a filthy liar. </p><p>Also! Modern AU! None of these stories will be connected in any way, btw</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier stretched, hearing his back pop and groaning. He’d been hunched over his laptop for hours now, and was finally ready to get some damn rest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shuffled to the bathroom down the hall, humming and sighing. It was near midnight. Geralt would’ve been pissed that he was still awake. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he brushed his teeth, he could’ve sworn he heard someone walking around downstairs. He shrugged it off, mumbling that he’d have to get the AC looked at. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier trailed back down the hall, fidgeting with the lights for a minute before turning out the ones in the hall. He ducked into his room, heart pounding. Had he just seen someone in his kitchen?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now on high alert, he pulled his pyjamas on, making a small hiding spot in his closet, when he definitely heard someone climbing up his stairs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Immediately, Jaskier grabbed the essentials. His phone, a charger, and a water bottle. He slammed his lights off and tried desperately to make himself as small as possible in his hiding spot. He was squished between his laundry basket and a stack of pillows, with an old blanket tossed across his head. If whoever was in his house entered the closet, they wouldn’t see him. But if they tried to examine his things closer...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shakily dialed the phone, instinct dialing the number. He waited, with shallow breaths, as the intruder entered his room. It wasn’t until the other person didn’t pick up immediately that he realized he hadn’t called 911. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello?” Geralt’s late night voice was slow and sleepy, and a tad bit annoyed. He’d likely been asleep. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt?” Jaskier stuttered out, his voice barely above a whisper. “Geralt?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is it Jaskier?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier pressed his hand against his face as the intruder wrenched his closet door open, took a look around, and slammed it shut again. He waited, one, two, three seconds before replying to Geralt with a desperately shaking voice. “Someone’s in my house.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt immediately sounded more awake when he spoke again. “Stay on the phone,do not hang up, no matter what. I’m calling the police. You stay on the phone with me, you hear me Jaskier?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t wanna die,” Jaskier whimpered, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You won’t,” Geralt promised, picking up his landline. “Just stay quiet, and very very still. I’m calling the cops.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier listened as Geralt frantically called the police, arguing that this was definitely very important, yes Jaskier knew what was going on, no he wasn’t just paranoid, yes he was in immediate danger. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier,” Geralt said softly. “I’m on my way, are you still safe?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mhm,” Jaskier responded. He sounded, even over the crackle of Geralt’s phone, like he was crying. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt nodded. “Stay on the line, I’m coming.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He quickly harnessed Roach up and jumped in his car, phone on speaker so he could hear every shake of Jaskier’s breath. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier, I’m outside,” Geralt murmured once he arrived. The police weren’t there yet, but Geralt could see the cars down the street. He waved them down, pressing a finger to his lips. “The police are too.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier didn’t respond, but Geralt could hear rustling. The intruder must’ve been in the closet with him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt took a deep breath, holding onto Roach’s harness strap tightly. She nudged into his leg, reassuring him that this was going to be okay. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Five minutes later, after the cops had gone in and there was complete silence on the street, Geralt heard a gunshot. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier!” He yelled, rushing into the house, Roach on his heels. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier?” Geralt frantically raced up the stairs and into Jaskier’s room, freezing when he saw what was taking place. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The cops had the intruder handcuffed, pressed against the wall. The gun was on the floor, completely abandoned. But the part that made Geralt drop to the floor in complete agony was Jaskier. He was face down, phone clutched in his right hand, blood seeping out of his side. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Geralt breathed. He could hear an ambulance wailing down the street, and the cops dragging the intruder out, but he was still staring at Jaskier. Jaskier, who was usually so full of life. Jaskier, who was dying right before his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The paramedics took him, telling Geralt to go home, get some rest. He’d had a rough day, he needed to relax. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roach whined as he numbly got into his car and drove home. “I know,” he muttered, going through the motions of the way home. “I know.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yennefer was waiting for him at his house. She crossed her arms and watched him get out of his car. “Get in the house, c’mon.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt followed her, not saying a word. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Go to bed,” she instructed, scratching Roach’s ears and pointing up the stairs. “And I swear to god, if you’re awake in half an hour, I’ll knock you out myself.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He nodded, trudging up the stairs and slowly preparing himself for bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yenn?” Geralt poked his head out of his bedroom. “Where’s Roach?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roach, in response, came running up the stairs, happy to be by his side again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt felt like a machine, simply preforming monotonous tasks all week until Yennefer messaged him one day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2"><strong>Yennefer</strong>: </span>
    <span class="s3">he’s awake</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2"><strong>Yennefer</strong>: </span>
    <span class="s3">and he’s asking about you</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2"><strong>Geralt</strong>: </span>
    <span class="s3">omw </span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Roach!” He called, picking up her harness. “Roach, c’mon, we’re going!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She trotted happily towards the door, tongue hanging out of her mouth. Geralt bent down and began to put her harness on. “You wanna go see Jaskier?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roach’s tail immediately started wagging hard, but she contained herself as he guided her to the car. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The hospital wasn’t far away, but the entire ten minute trip made Geralt’s stomach turn in knots. Roach, completely oblivious, stuck her face out the window and smiled at anyone they passed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Roach,” Geralt said once they’d pulled into the hospital parking lot. “It’s work time. Heel.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roach, ever the good service dog, immediately stopped her goofy act and stood obediently at Geralt’s left heel, following him into the hospital. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt,” Yennefer greeted once he walked in the doors. “C’mon.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He followed her, Roach occasionally whining when his anxiety spiked. He reached down and scratched her ears, trying to alleviate the urge to curl into a ball and cry. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once they reached room 413, Yennefer stopped. “Go on,” she murmured. “I have to go. Promise me you’ll be okay?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have Roach,” Geralt responded, pointing to the dog. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yennefer smiled. “Good. Roach, you keep Geralt safe, you hear?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roach pressed herself into Geralt’s leg and smiled. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll take that as a yes,” Yennefer said. “Now go.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt, not really willing to stand and wait, pushed into the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier was sitting upright in the hospital bed, his face paler than usual. But he looked alright, a couple balls of yarn in his lap and a set of knitting needles in his hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Geralt,” he said, looking up as Geralt entered the room. “Hey.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi,” Geralt sat down in one of the chairs, Roach sitting obediently by his side. “You’re okay.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Barely,” Jaskier put his knitting down. “The shot wasn’t fatal, but it hit my stomach.” He lifted his shirt, where a huge bandage sat, right next to a feeding tube. “So now I don’t have one.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt nodded. “Oh. Okay.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier sighed. “Geralt. It wasn’t your fault.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you?” Jaskier asked. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt hesitated. “I do.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good!” Jaskier sat back, picking up his knitting once more. “The doctor said it would be wisest for me to move in with someone else, just temporarily. I said you’d be the best fit. Between you and Roach, I’d be in the best of hands. And paws.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So, one month later, once Jaskier had been fully checked out of the hospital, Geralt came to collect him, Roach’s face sticking out the window, as per the usual. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey Cowboy!” Jaskier said, waving and getting into the car. “And Roach! Hello precious baby.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Roach boofed and licked Jaskier’s face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ready to go home?” Geralt asked, putting a hand over Jaskier’s </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go home.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Voice Breaking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt Three: Voice Breaking</p><p>Summary: Geralt takes a job for a banshee that’s been luring and killing townsfolk, but what happens when the banshee isn’t a banshee?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I AM SO SORRY</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt was in deep shit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knew he shouldn’t have taken the ‘hey we think there’s a banshee in this old ass abandoned castle in the middle of nowhere’ job, but it payed well, and he needed the coin. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course, it wasn’t a banshee. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a siren. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And sirens were notoriously harder to kill. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt could hear the singing from the entrance of the castle, mournful and sorrow filled. The siren was male, which was odd. It wasn’t impossible, but the sirens that preyed on humans were typically female. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck,” Geralt sighed, crouching in front of the candle he had lit. He scooped up two globs of half melted wax up and shoved them in his ears. It would have to work for now. It wasn’t exactly like he had another option. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">However, the song thrummed in his bones as he walked, footsteps feather light, towards the source. As he approached, he paused. Was that tune familiar?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No, he shook his head and pulled his silver sword out. No, he was just paranoid. The tune wasn’t familiar, nor were the words Geralt couldn’t hear so much as he could feel. It was weird, the way the words vibrated in his bones, made his stomach feel like he was falling off a cliff. But that was the siren’s spell, and he couldn’t fall victim to it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he drew closer and closer to the top of the castle’s highest tower, the singing got louder, until Geralt could hear the words through his makeshift wax earplugs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">“The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool, better stay out of sight.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt froze just outside the entrance to the tower’s room. No, he definitely knew that tune. That was Jaskier’s song, one he never sang to the public. Which meant that the only person who knew it was...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door opened, and Geralt could see him standing there, surrounded in ethereal blue lights, singing his heart out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">“I’m weak my love, and I am wanting. If this is the path I must trudge, I welcome my sentence, give to you my penance, Garrotter, Jury, and Judge!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaskier!” Geralt yelled, leaning against the doorway. He had never noticed how badly Jaskier’s voice cracked, how sorrowful and pained he sounded as he sang this song. “Jaskier!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier turned, eyes practically glowing blue. “Geralt?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Geralt nodded, trying to take a step forward, but failing. Despite the fact that Jaskier stopped singing, he kept playing his lute, and the music was driving Geralt crazy. “Jaskier, please.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Jaskier wasn’t in the mood to be nice. He plucked a few more notes, causing Geralt to practically whine, the sound feeling like a brick wall had just fallen on top of him. “You left me! And now, now! You have the audacity to crawl back here and what? Beg me to forgive you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No!” Geralt growled out, on his hands and knees. “Just, fuck!” He put a hand over his eyes. “You’re killing people! Leave, please! Leave the townsfolk alone!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier’s glowing eyes looked down, down at the begging Witcher at his feet. He had stopped playing, but it didn’t make much of a difference. Geralt was shaking, eyes tracing upwards to meet his. “Please.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Witcher,” Jaskier tried to keep his voice steady. His heart yearned to bend down, to cradle Geralt’s face and ask him to never, ever speak like that again. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he’d even survive another desperate voice crack. “Leave.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Geralt looked up at him, voice pained. “Not until you promise that you’ll go, and never hurt these people.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jaskier took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, bending down and putting a hand over Geralt’s cheek. “But you need to learn.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pulled the wax from Geralt’s ears and stood, putting his lute around his front. He pressed a boot to Geralt’s shoulder, keeping him on the floor. His heart hurt, and he watched as Geralt realized he could do nothing. He watched as Geralt resigned himself to die. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">“But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wind began to whip around the room, ruffling Jaskier’s hair and bringing the blue light back, making everything appear as if it were underwater. Geralt choked, hands moving to his neck. But Jaskier pressed harder with his boot, closing his eyes and singing all his sorrows into his last few lines. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">“But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The room went silent as Geralt died, the lights fading and the wind stopping. Jaskier began to sob, still playing his lute, voice breaking and quivering. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">“The story is this, I destroyed with my sweet kiss.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Betrayal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt four: Betrayal</p><p>Summary: Juliet Alfaya Pankratz, Duchess Of Lettenhove, was happy to be home after her travels, and her heartbreak on a mountaintop. But destiny is a cold bitch, and shoves Geralt and Juliet back together once more. Forced to pick, will she choose her birth family, or her found family?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not as sad, not as bloody. I’m on a roll!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Juliet?” Someone was knocking on Jaskier’s door, rousing her from her slumber. “Lady Juliet?”</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“What?” Jaskier said, rolling over. She’d returned to Lettenhove after the mountain incident, and had been happily acclimating back to her life as a duchess and a woman. Not to say she wasn’t a woman when she had traveled, but her femininity had taken a backseat to survival while she’d been on the road. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Now, she stretched and sat up, pulling her nightgown over her body and grumbling as she attempted to tug a brush through her rat’s nest of hair. “You can come in!” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Her lady in waiting, Juniper, stepped into the room, holding a pile of clothes. “Your father insists, Lady Juliet,” she said upon seeing Jaskier’s face. “Says there’s a very important meeting over breakfast.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Huh,” Jaskier eyed the pile of clothes. “Fine, I guess. How long do I have?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“An hour.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier sighed. “Then we should probably get started.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">She shimmied into the dress, huffing and grumbling her way through the actual corset, the undergarments, the dress itself, and then the decorative corset. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“This is overkill!” She yelled, hands on the back of a chair as Juniper laced the second corset. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“I know Lady Juliet,” Juniper said, tying off the corset. “But that’s the last of it. Sit, I’ll do your hair.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier finally sat down, admiring her dress. It was a beautiful champagne color with a fluffy white petticoat. It wasn’t exactly the current style of near-royalty, but the Pankratz family was nothing if not traditional. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier admired the beading on the dress, the pearlescent beads stitched in tiny, intricate patterns. But her favorite part was the second corset. It was sapphire blue, with beautiful gold embroidered details and a silky blue and gold ribbon in the back. It really brought her eyes out and made her waist look impossibly tiny.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Lady Juliet?” Juniper held out her tiara, and Jaskier carefully slid it on. Despite being a duchess, and not a princess, Jaskier’s father had given her a tiara. It wasn’t huge, but it was beautiful. Tiny silver gemstones arranged in petal-esque shapes that reminded Jaskier of exactly how she had gotten her nickname in the first place. She nestled the tiara amongst her curls, piled in a neat bun on her head. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Thank you kindly Juniper,” Jaskier stood, stepping carefully into her blue shoes. “I’ll see you after this fiasco is over.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier walked down the hall, heels clicking as she made her way to the dining room. “Father,” she said, pushing the huge doors open. “What did you insist upon waking me for?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“We had an issue in the night,” her father said, gesturing to the seat on his right. “A witcher was contracted to kill a Doppler in private, and he violated that decree and slayed the Doppler in the town square.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“What?” Jaskier sighed, pushing her food around her plate. “I thought you didn’t care, as long as the Doppler died?”</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Yes well,” her father said. “I didn’t want him killed in the middle of the town.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier shrugged. “Sometimes, a Witcher has no other option.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“This one did.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier grumbled, taking a bite of her food. “Where is he now?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“The dungeons,” her father said. “He will face trial at noon, and likely a hanging at sunset.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Wincing, Jaskier stood, abandoning her food. “May I speak to him?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Be my guest.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">So Jaskier trailed down to the dungeons, trying to keep perfect posture. She had no idea what to expect. She’d met three of the four wolf Witchers, and wondered faintly if this was one of them. But no, the odds were too great. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Unfortunately, her luck was shit. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Geralt was meditating in the cell, legs crossed and eyes closed. He must’ve heard her come in, because he twitched ever so slightly. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Witcher,” Jaskier held herself high and steeled her gaze. “What brings you to Lettenhove?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Geralt opened his eyes, looking her over. “I came to take a contract on a Doppler. The Duke offered it to me.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Yes,” Jaskier nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “But I do believe the details of the contract stated you must slay the Doppler in a remote area of the city.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Cut the shit Jaskier,” Geralt stood, quick and silent. Jaskier, to her credit, didn’t flinch. “What the hell are you doing here?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier seethed. “I told you time and time again that I lived in the city, and that I held a great title.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“You said you were a Viscount!” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“I lied!” Jaskier yelled, suddenly very angry. “Do you know what the price on the head of Juliet Alfeya Pankratz, Duchess of Lettenhove would’ve been? We would’ve been hunted by bandits every other week!” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Geralt was silent. “So, you’re the Duchess?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier took a breath, trying to compose herself. “Yes, I am.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“A Duchess is the wife of a Duke, so,” Geralt raised an eyebrow, expecting an explanation. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“It’s unorthodox,” Jaskier muttered. “But my mother died some time ago. As the oldest female, Father appointed me the Duchess. My elder twin brother, Julian, is set to be Duke when Father dies.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Geralt made a face, but nodded. “Am I to be killed?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Yes.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">He sighed, slumping against the wall. “Will you help me?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Escape?” Jaskier leaned close to the bars. “You know I cannot. I left Lettenhove once of my own accord and with my father’s knowledge. If I aided you, I would be a fugitive.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“No,” Geralt held out a small roll of paper. “My child surprise, Ciri. She’s in town right now. Care for her, and send her to Kaer Morhen for me. Please?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier froze. In all the years she’d traveled with Geralt, she’d never heard him say please. “I-“ she carefully took the scroll. “I will try.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Geralt seemed to think that was acceptable, and sat back to meditate. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Immediately, Jaskier fled the dungeons, tucking the scroll into her dress. “Father!” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Daughter,” her father turned from where he’d been talking to the court judge. “What brings you to me in such a hurry?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“May I see the contract?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“What?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier took a deep breath, her heart pounding. “The contract Ger- I mean, the Witcher took. I want to read it.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Her father nodded. “Of course. Here you are.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper out and handed it to Jaskier. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Thank you Father,” she said, curtsying to the judge and rushing off. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">The details were easy enough to memorize. A Doppler must be slain away from the eyes of the city, and it must be slain within a week of accepting the contract. A room would be provided at a local inn while the contract was taken, and a payment of 750 coins would be made upon completion, along with 250 for accepting the contract. Knowing Geralt, he’d collect the entire bounty after the Doppler was dead. But Jaskier, armes with the new knowledge, grabbed her midnight blue cloak and rushed off to the inn. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Waiting in the room detailed in the contract was a girl, small and dirty. She pulled out a dagger when Jaskier burst into the room, clearly ready for a fight. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Relax!” Jaskier held her hands up. “Ciri? Your father asked me to give this to you.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Ciri took the scroll quickly, reading it and tearing up. “Who are you?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier sat down on the edge of the bed, gesturing Ciri to her side. “I’m Juliet Pankratz, but you might know me as Jaskier. I met your mother once or twice, and she was fairly fond of my singing.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“You’re a bard?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Sometimes,” Jaskier smoothed Ciri’s hair down. “But sometimes, I’m a Duchess. But I like to consider myself as the woman Geralt’s traveled with for almost twenty five years.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“That was you?” Ciri said excitedly, jumping up. “So why don’t you save him, if you’re the duchess?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier shook her head. “It would be illegal. I would be hanged right alongside him.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Ciri sat back down. “Is there anything you can do?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Considering, Jaskier took a breath. “I’m not sure,” she said softly. “He’ll be on trial at noon. Come with me. If something happens, at least you’ll be by my side.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">She got Ciri to the castle and properly cleaned up under a false name, dressing her in one of Jaskier’s old dresses. The former Cintran princess stuck tightly to Jaskier’s side, barely uttering a word as she and Jaskier entered the court. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Father,” Jaskier sat down at her father’s left. “This is Anna. She’s the Witcher’s daughter.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Her father raised an eyebrow. “Adopted?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Yes,” Ciri said with a small nod. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Hm,” Jaskier’s father waved to a passing servant. “Can you grab another chair for our guest here?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Once Ciri sat and the rest of the court came in, the trail could begin. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">It was short and simple, especially compared to some of the other trails Jaskier had sat through. Ciri shook the entire time, eyes brimming with tears, but never shedding a single one. Not until the judge stood and pronounced Geralt guilty, and determined that he’d be hanged. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Please,” she said softly to Jaskier as she ushered her out of the courtroom and out into the stables. “Please save him.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Working on it,” Jaskier said through gritted teeth, tethering a horse to a wooden wagon. The horse was her own, a beautiful brown mare named Violet. “Go to the inn, as quietly as you can, and get all of your stuff on Roach. Meet me there, mounted on Roach if you can.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">While Ciri rushed off, Jaskier carefully changed out of her corset and dress, instead opting for the comfortable bardic clothes she had hidden in the stables. The shorter worn blue skirt and loose chemise would help her tremendously now. Stuffing keys and other things in her petticoat, and Jaskier began to load the wagon with food, blankets, sachets of coin, and other supplies. The last thing was her elven lute, tucked safely between two blankets. Then, happy with how she’d prepared, she hopped into the seat of the wagon and flicked the reigns. Violet trotted without hesitation, blissfully unaware of the danger Jaskier was about to put her through. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">When she pulled up to the town square, Jaskier hopped off the wagon and drew the hood of her plain burgundy red cloak over her head. There was already a noose waiting, and Jaskier mingled with the crowd that was already gathered. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Geralt was marched out, hands cuffed and head low. The noose was placed around his neck with little hesitation, and Jaskier climbed up on her cart. She was well in the shadows, but Geralt would be able to see her anyway. They locked eyes, and Jaskier raised her crossbow. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">The executioner pulled the lever. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier fired her bolt. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Geralt hit the ground with a thump, rolling and immediately racing to Jaskier’s cart. She tossed the crossbow aside, grabbing Violet’s reigns and snapping them. Violet tossed her head and began to charge in the direction of the town. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Get on!” Jaskier yelled behind her, seeing Geralt racing towards the cart. “Oh you useless Witcher, get on!” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">He didn’t make it, but thankfully, Roach and Ciri were waiting. Ciri jumped into the moving cart, and Geralt swung up on Roach. She followed close after Violet, the pair of horses racing towards the city’s borders. Jaskier knew the Lettenhove soldiers wouldn’t follow them into the woods, not with how wild the forest was. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Stop!” The Duke was waiting for them, standing in the center of the final road out. “I command you to stop!” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier pulled back on Violet’s reigns, watching Geralt do the same to Roach. The quick stop threw Jaskier’s hood down, revealing her to her father. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Juliet,” he put his sword down. “My own daughter. How could you?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier reached up and grabbed her tiara. In all the panic, she’d forgotten to take it off. “I love you father, but I found a new family.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">She tossed the tiara at him, and raised her crossbow. “Move.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Her father froze. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Move,” Jaskier repeated. “Lest I have to shoot you.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">He made the smart decision and moved to the side. As Jaskier rode past, he grabbed her arm. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“You betrayed the Pankratz name,” he spit. “Don’t expect us to accept you in this city ever again.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier yanked her arm back. “I’ll be back to claim my throne,” she said in an equally venomous tone. “And that is a goddamn promise.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">With that, she continued to ride on, head held high. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Two days later, Geralt approached her. “You left for me.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Yeah,” Jaskier strummed her lute. “I did.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Geralt sat next to her, holding out a hand. “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Jaskier smiled, shaking his hand. “You would’ve done the same for me,” she murmured. “And I couldn’t just let Ciri’s father die.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Thank you anyway,” Geralt said. “You left everything behind for us. You’re probably exiled now.” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">“Hush,” Jaskier put a hand over Geralt’s mouth. “No more of that. This winter, we’ll stay at Kaer Morhen, and in the spring, we can continue our adventures. I do believe I wanted to go to the coast?” </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">Geralt chucked, glad to have his bard back by his side. “Yeah. The coast.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I feel like this is gonna be a theme, but I’m sorry! I feel horrible!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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